Chance Lost
by KeepCalmFanFicExists
Summary: Tom Riddle has only one thing in mind lately: finding Ravenlcaw's diadem. But what happens when finding it raises more questions than it answers?


_Written for round 7 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition for the Wanderers. As Chaser 3 the theme was Ravenclaw's Diadem. No prompts were used. _

_Disclaimer: If anything sounds familiar it comes from the Deathly Hallows._

_A massive thank you to the amazing Ella, without her support this fic would have died a long time ago._

"I understand," Tom Riddle said quietly. He looked deep into the transparent eyes of the ghost floating just a few inches over the floor in front of him without blinking, calmly waiting for the response he had been looking for so many months now.

"You have beautiful eyes," Helena Ravenclaw stated sadly. "Their colour is so very familiar."

Riddle stared patiently, returning a small sad smile.

"I left it behind, along with my body," the ghost whispered, as if she was only talking to his eyes, "inside the hollow tree I had hidden it, far away in a forest of the land you call Albania now. A secluded place beyond everyone's reach. Or so I thought."

Riddle nodded. Albania was a small country, mainly full of woods, but small all the same, it would be easy to detect magic as strong as the one emitted by such a powerful object. He couldn't help but smile triumphantly at the ghost.

"Thank you," he told her warmly, making sure his eyes widened appropriately in gratitude.

The bell rang somewhere in the distance and his hand instinctively reached for the Prefect Badge shining on his chest.

"I should go," he said. "I will never forget your help, madam."

She remained there, swinging slightly on the spot, looking at him as he made a small bow and left to assist the always absent-minded first years.

* * *

Tom raised his wand for what he felt was the millionth time. He was standing at the edges of yet another forest, ready to perform the complicated detection-spells that would reveal to him whether these were the woods containing _ The Hollow Tree_ as he would call it. He had been combing the country for weeks, right after school had finished and the orphanage had kicked him out, he had packed his few belongings, taken an illegal Portkey to the Greek city of Ioannina and from there he had been travelling through the mountains of Pindus in constant alert of signs of magic. It had been a long way and the times he had stumbled upon Nazi troopes transporting Jews or moving towards the Soviet Union had been stressful even though he hadn't been in real danger. He could take them all out easily, but it would attract unwanted attention, these countries were so small the slightest unplanned magical incident would be suspicious.

While he was twirling his wand and thinking of the incantation, he was also hoping the little trip would soon end in success. These weren't times to be playing the tourist. So when a discrete, cobalt blue flame erupted somewhere deep in the forest, he couldn't help the shark-smile that lit his face. Tom turned on the spot and when he could breathe normally again, he spotted an incredibly old tree just next to him. He approached carefully; Helena Ravenclaw hadn't mentioned any protective spells, but he liked being prepared. Others said he was exaggerating, he said they were idiots; he knew that being that careful had saved his life multiple times. This one included.

As he got near the old tree, a bolt was unleashed from it and hit the nearest bush setting it on fire instantly. With a casual flick of his wand and with not the faintest hesitation, Riddle performed one by one all the counter-curses and anti-hexes to free the treasure. He didn't mind it was hard work and he had performed excessive amounts of magic that day already, all that mattered was that much later he saw the wood retrieve and reveal a hole in its middle. And there sat the dirtiest, rustiest, most ancient tiara anyone could ever imagine. It was nothing special really, but Tom knew he had found the obsession that had been haunting his minds for a year; he could feel the magic literally springing like water of a fountain from it.

With a slightly unstable hand he reached for it, taking a deep breath and letting the triumph fill him completely. And then, the minute his fingertip touched the tarnished metal, it transformed, letting a strong vibe out. In the shape of an eagle in flight with a sapphire bigger than a quail's egg for a body, Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem was lying there, sparkling seductively only to him.

Tom's carefully composed face for a second showed surprise and then it went back to its usual blank and polite expression. As a small child he had never seen anything more impressive and luxurious than a silk handkerchief and, even though Hogwarts had offered him many spectacular objects as far as aesthetics went, this was far beyond the gems in the Prefects' Bathroom, or the velvet curtains of the beds. Very slowly he picked it up, first examining solely its appearance. He was counting the small diamonds that decorated the wings when he felt another vibe, not that strong as the first one, but powerful none the less. And then another and another.

With some difficulty, he took his eyes away from the sparkling stones to examine the diadem properly and then he noticed the low voice coming from it: "yesss, yesss, you fffound it, ssso long, fffinallyyyy." Tom stared at it perplexed: no one was near him, he knew that, and he had never read anything about the diadem having some sort of personality. Helena Ravenclaw had mentioned nothing on that matter, could it be a trap to punish the thief?

Only the talking sounded somewhat familiar, it kind of reminded him the way Morgana, the basilisk, would sound when she was asking for him from the sewers; Parseltongue. Could it possibly be? It was always difficult to distinguish English from Parseltongue, he even suspected he would slip into the snake-language without knowing when he was very tired and the hisses were much easier to mutter. He looked at the treasure in his hand more puzzled than ever before. He hadn't been expecting anything like this and that could mean only one thing: research.

* * *

The candles in the library had melted hours ago and now Riddle had to illuminate the books he was reading with the thin sliver of light his wand offered. He could have used a more powerful spell, but his priority now was to pass unnoticed by staff members who had no families to go back to for the summer. Dumbledore would definitely be here and he'd bet Headmaster Dippet wouldn't be leaving the school until the events of the Chamber of Secrets were decades away. He stiffened a snarl and moved to the next book. Not that he didn't enjoy reading everything he could, just sometimes a device looking for the topic he was interested in, could be more efficient than manual work. When he had gained truly immortal life, he could invent one while relaxing.

He had read every book there was on the diadem and plenty on Parseltongue, Ravenclaw and Elemental Magic; nothing explained much. It was the second night he was going without sleep and his eyes were burning. He had been feeling tired hours ago, now he was in a robotic state, just moving on to the next book. So he didn't even ignore a book on myths and legends of the founders of the school. It was a gossipy piece of work, full of flirtatious witches and wizards who had crossed paths with the four founders of the school at some point. He was so tired, he forgot to be offended when he read about a Muggle woman making advances towards Slytherin while Hogwarts was constructed. The next part was so bizarre though, it drove every bit of sleepiness away.

_In an odd turn of events it was not Salazar Slytherin who got captured in the net of Cupid. The great wizard's only surviving child and son had always been a quiet, peculiar and solemn child. When he grew up, the child became a powerful, hot-headed wizard ready to challenge any opponent to duel with him. His frequent mood swings and explosions of anger made the wizarding community wary of him. But apparently not everyone. Rumours about a love affair with Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter, Helena, were quite popular at the time, only it is difficult to confirm this, for the son's name has not been known and Helena's disappearance gave an even steamier scandal to talk about. None the less, some even dared add a child to the situation, a lonely boy born in the House of the Eagle and fathered by the Serpent. Could the child be the reason Helena disappeared from the face of the earth, or was perhaps her not-approved love the real motive?_

Tom sat up straight, grabbing the books from both sides. What he had read was incredible, simply mind-blowing. If that was true... If that was true, then he was not only the Heir of Slytherin, it was much better than that. When he had discovered his heritage, he had had a small talk with the Bloody Baron, the ghost of Slytherin House, and he had informed him that he was indeed a descendant of the only Parseltongue family in Britain. The ghost had been able to verify that, because he himself had been Slytherin's son when he lived. And if the son, his only son, had had a child with the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw, then the lost link would be restored and he, Tom Marvolo Riddle, would be the heir of both Slytherin and Ravenclaw. The world would be practically his. He had to check that right away.

* * *

"Please," he said, for the first time in his life his voice close to begging, "I have to know this."

"I will not stay here and listen to your insults!" Helena Ravenclaw hissed, so angry her transparent cheeks looked opaque. "I thought- I thought I could speak to you, but you- you come here and repeat these _disgusting_ rumours, how dare you, boy-"

"Madam," Tom started again, "I need to know if this is true, I never meant to insult you. All I want is to know about my- my heritage..." he let his voice trail off.

"Heritage?" the Grey Lady repeated breathlessly, as if she hadn't heard correctly.

Tom nodded as sadly and awkwardly as he could. If they were actually related, this would probably be the only way to calm her down. The tears that filled her eyes were not a desirable result.

"So it is not a coincidence," she muttered, floating closer to him now, searching his face, "I thought-I thought after a thousand years I was bound to start imagining things..."

He inclined his head a bit to show both how sorry he felt for her mental torture and to ask for more information.

"I had not seen those eyes for over a thousand years, since the last time I saw him. Marvolo. My son. You should have seen him, he was the most adorable little boy. Strong and brilliant, he was only two when he took his father's wand and defeated that werewolf that attacked him. And he had his father's eyes, your eyes."

Helena Ravenclaw raised a transparent hand to cup his cheek but hesitated when it was an inch away from his face out of fear of freezing him. When he didn't flinch, she stroked his cheek motherly. It felt like an ice cube was in contact with his skin, as it always felt when he was touched. He didn't mind, he just needed to know more.

"But I had to leave him behind, I had to leave them both behind when the rumours started spreading. Salazar had already disagreed heavily with the other founders on the students that should be accepted here and his ideas found little support outside the school. The Slytherins were not popular anymore and so no one would approve of the marriage. But the Baron and I were so desperately in love, we wanted to be together. When the child came along, my mother took care of me and the Baron could not be there. Suddenly everything was just too much, I could not continue living like this, hiding my boy and myself and the man I loved from everyone for no reason. So I left, even though it broke my heart. I took the diadem with me, one day it could give me a viable idea on putting my family back together.

That was when the Baron came to find me in the Albanian forest. He wanted me to come back, he said he could live with seeing both Marvolo and me just a few times a year, but it was beyond himself not seeing us at all. I told him how I hated the secrecy, how I wanted us to live all together in the open. He laughed, he was sure the wizarding world would never accept him. We argued. The Baron had always been a hot-tempered man, in his fury and pain he stabbed me. When he realized what he had done, he was immediately overcome by grief. He would take his life with the same knife that had claimed mine, but first he had to leave behind something only our son would be able to find. The Baron took my mother's diadem, added every magical secret he knew and bewitched it to share this knowledge only with our descendants. He hid the diadem in the hollow tree I had stored it in and then joined me in death forever. But I never saw Marvolo again. Until now," she concluded her story with a faint smile and tears running down her cheeks.

Tom looked at her calculatingly, only she didn't seem to notice. All that story was irrelevant, the only thing that mattered was that the myth was true, he was a descendant of two of the founders, the blood of two of the most important witches and wizards that had ever lived was running in his veins! Joy took over his mind and body, a joy so wild he couldn't keep it hidden. His lips were twisted upwards in an animalistic laugh that sounded mad even to his own ears and he just turned on his heel ignoring the ghost who was asking between sobs if he had found the diadem.

Two minutes later he was standing in the Room of Requirement that looked like a cross-over between the Slytherin Common Room and the Library and was extracting with precise moves the diadem from its protective bag. He lifted it up under the chandelier which sent tiny sparkling lights all over the books on the walls. In a minute he would have wisdom, even the added parts from the Baron. He wondered what it would be. Something probably to do with his latest experiences with his lover and their child. Something about _love_.

No, he most certainly did not want to know that, he most certainly had no need to get in touch with these... things. The love story he had just been told flashed before his eyes and his stomach instantly felt tighter. He was getting physically sick from it.

Abruptly he put the diadem down and left it on the closest table. He needed to find a place to keep it safe until it was ready to accept his soul. Only it had to be far away from him, he couldn't afford being sick of love when his immortality was at stake.

_A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. _


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